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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432145">what happens to the girl?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volts/pseuds/Volts'>Volts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Underage Relationship, Ciri has 2 Grandparents 2 Mums 1 Dad a Drunk Uncle and a Sober Uncle, Druid Geralt, Druid Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, F/M, Geralt's the dad duny can go die, I love Yen as ciri's mother but let's not forget pavetta died, M/M, Mousesack's the sober uncle, Multi, One should not have to suffer to get the happy ending, Pre-OT3, Role Reversal, Witcher Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:06:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volts/pseuds/Volts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you find him?” Calanthe says. The screen is right there for her to change behind but instead Yennefer has a sudden view of toned flesh. Armour is discarded on the floor and Calanthe washes the blood off with a rag.<br/>“Yes.”<br/>“Did you kill him?”<br/>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Wolf Witcher Yennefer had just finished a contract upon a selkimore when a missive from Queen Calanthe summons her to the palace. On the eve of Pavetta's betrothal ball, Yennefer must do what she can to prevent grave miscarriages in justice. Skelligan Druid Geralt is just here for the free food - and to support his liege, of course. Mousesack had left him soon after they had arrived and soon after that Geralt had found the buffet table and intended to stay there for the rest of the evening.</p><p>*</p><p>Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, featuring: Druid!Geralt, Witcher!Yennefer and Jaskier as himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Background Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach, Emhyr var Emreis/Pavetta, Geralt z Rivii &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher Quick Fic #06</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what happens to the girl?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for The Witcher Quick Fic challenge.</p><p>Title Quote came from: </p><p>“But what happens to the girl with no positive parental examples?<br/>What happens to the girl with the cold mother who<br/>conditioned herself to bury her emotions?<br/>And what happens to the girl with the father who<br/>is an example of who not to marry?”<br/>― LaTasha “Tacha B.” Braxton </p><p>Warning: A theme of this fic is the canonical relationship between Pavetta/Duny in which she is a teenager. It is not explicit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Yennefer had been in the midst of a bath when the Queen’s letter came. She’d washed her hair free from Selkimore viscera and was moving on to getting mud out from under her nails when Jaskier knocked on the door and came in without awaiting her answer. He’d seen it all before and she didn’t mind. They’d had a whole conversation about it.</p><p>“Uh, sorry to interrupt your-” he gestured ineffectually to her previously tranquil moment, “- everything. But I found a contract for you.”</p><p>She looked over her shoulder at him – gods it was paining her, she needed more of that salve she’d made last month - “Already? I hadn’t heard your caterwauling yet?” She’d sent him down to sing for their supper – and grant her a few moments peace. She hadn’t heard his heartfelt rendition of <em>The Queen’s Guard</em> reducing the tap-room’s clients into varying degrees of misty-eyed and tear stained, Jaskier spreading a fantastical lie about how determined and loyal Yennefer was. Protecting the weak. The ballad didn’t mention how Queen Kalis had found her standing over husbands’ body and screamed bloody murder.</p><p>Bloody murder, hah, Jaskier would find that funny if she ever told him.</p><p>“This is from Queen Calanthe.” She wiped her hands on her towel and took the note from him. It was opaque in its direction. Calanthe had need of a Witcher’s services, but no details were given as to what monster was to be slain.</p><p>“Is she inviting you to the betrothal ball? Every knight and twopenny king will be there. I’d hoped to ask, actually … Princess Pavetta invited me to play and I was hoping for some moral, and, uh, sword-y support?” He trailed his fingers through her bathwater, big blue eyes staring at her imploringly under thick lashes. It was only years of exposure to her glare than prevented him quailing under the look she gave him in response to him splashing her. Yennefer sighed, she remembered when one look could have his heart stuttering.</p><p>It stuttered now though he didn’t look, or smell, especially scared. She sighed again, smiling at him contemplatively.</p><p>“We’ll go then. I’ll see what Calanthe wants tomorrow,” he grinned at her response, and her own heart warmed against her will. She rolled her eyes and washed the soap out from under her arms, “How many lords want to kill you?”</p><p>“Eh,” Jaskier pulled a face, “Only one or two. Or three. And a few Ladies. And other various nobles whose partners are less than faithful.”</p><p>She gave him a judging look and got out of the bath. And there were Jaskier’s troublesome wandering eyes. She glared him into passing her sleep shirt. (He knew what each glare meant down to the minutest of details).</p><p>She’d better brush off her best leathers, she thought with irritated and exasperated reluctance, tomorrow she meets royalty. How thrilling (!)</p><p>“Does this mean I get to meet the Queen? Oh, how they’ll sing the praises of Jaskier’s triumphant performance!!”</p><p>Yennefer rolled her eyes. She’d introduced him to Queen Renfri, hadn’t she?</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Geralt had been in Cintra a whole day and he couldn’t say he reckoned it much. The ballroom is opulently decked out in gold and royal colours. His ears are ringing from the revelry of the other partygoers and the racket the band is making. He’d been forced into his best clothes, tightfitting black robes with a silver belt. Mousesack had tried to get him wearing something more festive but this was Geralt’s only ‘best’ outfit. It was dyed with ichor. Most of Geralt’s other clothes were in plain linen or brown leather. He did have some colourful shirts – he had a lovely one in teal that he’d been told set off his auburn hair wonderfully – but nothing so formal to go with them. And Ichor was literally the most expensive dye, wasn’t that appropriate for royalty? It had been packed in his ‘nice’ trunk since the last funeral he’d officiated. It was maybe a little tight.</p><p>Mousesack had left him soon after they had arrived to touch base with some of his acquaintances and find something to drink. Queen Calanthe hadn’t even arrived, yet half the people here were drunk already. Geralt had found the buffet table and intended to stay there for the rest of the evening.</p><p>Geralt knew Mousesack, he vaguely knew Draig Bon-Dhu who had spent the evening occasionally ruining the already only-tolerable music with spontaneous peels of bagpipe playing - to tumultuous laughter from his friends- , and of course he knew Crach an Craite and Eist Tuisreach. He amused himself by watching Eist glance hopefully at the door every time it opened, waiting for Queen Calanthe. Geralt piled his plate full of finger food, the choicest cuts of ham he could see, and spoonsful of olives and roasted garlic.</p><p>Princess Pavetta looked pretty miserable at the high table. Geralt looked over to where Crach was drinking and laughing with his Uncle. Crach was a good boy, at least. Even if their marriage would be a loveless one, he’d respect her at least.</p><p>Geralt’d much rather be back in his little house in Skellige. Roach grazing in her field, his goats and geese wandering around and through the main living area. Around about now, barring any emergencies, he’d be finishing up bottling up his day of crushing up herbs and monster guts and settling in to read his latest book from Novigrad. He wasn’t made for the flashy tapestries of court life, he’d much rather potter around helping people, either through his druidic training or in helping to repair the villages after storm damage. At the end of the day, they’d sit around in the fire in the centre of the village and drink Geralt’s home made beer and tell stories.</p><p>Geralt is broken out of his happy reminiscing of peaceful evenings past by a man tapping him urgently on the shoulder and pointing beyond him.</p><p>“Excuse me, can I -?” the man says, with a charming if slightly breathless smile. Geralt steps back, to let the - oh gods it’s the fucking bard – man pass, only to have him duck behind him and use him as a human shield.</p><p>A short Baron, with a grey beard, storms up to him and demands, “Where did that little shit go? I saw him pass. Tall, brunet, blue eyes, wearing – TROUSERS DOWN YOU LITTLE PRICK!”</p><p>The bard’s ‘genius’ hiding place has been, unsurprisingly, found out. The man’s about 2 inches taller than Geralt and wearing the brightest suit in the room.</p><p>“I’ll have you know-” the bard interjects from over Geralt’s shoulder and puffing up slightly in indignation.</p><p>“What’s this about?” Geralt asks, spreading his hands in preparation of pushing the two men apart, they’re drawing a crowd.</p><p>“This man - this little shit! I found him climbing out of my wife’s chambers’ window! I just need to see his-”</p><p>The bard draws himself up to protest. Geralt can feel a headache blooming on his right temple, not aided at all by the way the torch light reflects off the bard’s golden suit.</p><p>“Let’s remember where we are, gentlemen,” Geralt interjects, “I’m sure Princess Pavetta wouldn’t appreciate a scene on her-” he grits his teeth, glancing at the miserable girl up at the high table by herself, “- big day.”</p><p>The Baron considers this. Geralt’s headache is worsening.</p><p>“Besides, this gentleman and I were discussing a problem he’s had since childhood. He was kicked in the balls as an ox as a youngster. He thought a druid, such as myself, might bring him some relief, there are rarely magical healers in Cintra after all.”</p><p>The bard catches on and nods, “Yes, that – that is what we were discussing!”</p><p>“Oh. Well, perhaps I was mistaken, drown your sorrows on me, poor eunuch,” the Baron claps the bard on the shoulder, and goes off to get another drink.</p><p>The bard collapses in relief as the Baron retreats, before putting his hands on his hips to admonish Geralt, “Well, thank you (!) Kind sir, I do have a reputation to uphold(!) Though I suppose I am very, very, grateful as I do not need to be, well, publicly exposed at such a party!”</p><p>Geralt is too busy looking around to notice the way the bard looks him up and down appraisingly and starts when he says, “Let me get you a drink. Sodden Mead? Cintran Farro? Or perhaps a Toussaint Red, if you’re a wine man?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“My name’s Jaskier, you might have heard of me,” the bard, Jaskier says, faux humbly, holding his hand out for a shake. At the last minute of Geralt taking his hand he turned it around to place a kiss upon Geralt’s knuckles, looking up at Geralt flirtatiously.</p><p>“So, I assume you came with the Skelligan party, uh, -?”</p><p>“Geralt Eric Roger Haute-Bellegarde. You’d do well not to travel alone, if you insist on angering men such as the Baron.”</p><p>“I’ll have you know I do have an escort. She has temporarily, uh, abandoned me for a ‘higher cause’,” Jaskier doesn’t seem very concerned.</p><p>A woman has joined Pavetta at the high table. She’s dressed in a leather tunic and trousers - both in black - and is concealing quite a bit of weaponry. He has knives up her sleeves, no doubt one silver and one steel to match the swords on her left hip. Her black hair hangs loose in glossy waves, framing her face. Violet and golden eyes scan the hall. A witcher. Geralt knew Witchers, they travelled through Skellige frequently. Many bought ingredients off him and they kept the siren population down.</p><p>“Ah, there she is!” Jaskier’s eyes brighten as he catches sight of the Witcher, giving her a little wave. She returns it with a nod.</p><p>“You have a Witcher for an escort? The Kingslayer at that?!”</p><p>“Oh, come on, she only killed <em>one</em> King! And he deserved it. My ballad about it is still banned in Lyria and Rivia, and in Aedirn, surely you’ve heard it?” He sounds proud of that. Of course, when something is banned, the people want to know <em>why</em> and it’s popularity increases no matter what the powers-that-be want.</p><p>Geralt had heard it. As legend went, the Witcher, Yennefer of Vengerberg, had killed the King of Lyria when he’d tried to hire her to kill his wife and daughter. The ballad told this in stark detail, turning the Witcher into a formidable bodyguard who’d protected her charges through ice, through storms on the high seas, across meadows of poisonous flowers, and in blistering deserts, all the while pursued by a variety of monsters, each more creative than the last.</p><p>“Do you dye your hair? I’ve heard that certain types of beetles, when crushed, can produce that colour of vibrant red, or perhaps you use your, uh, druid-y magic? How long have you been a druid?”</p><p>Geralt ignored him and asked, “Why is Yennefer of Vengerberg here?”</p><p>“What-? I don’t know. She got a missive from the palace 3 days ago. I was going to invite her anyway. Had this whole, uh, thing, planned. Ah well! So-”</p><p>Whatever Jaskier had been about to say gets drowned out by Queen Calanthe’s entrance and, with a muttered ‘oh shit’, he ducks back to where the rest of the band are already playing.</p><p>The Queen makes her proclamation of her lateness to varying reactions. Geralt gets an uncomfortable twist in his stomach at the thought of the people she’s hurt. He wonders if he can sneak out to see if anyone can be helped. The bard, Jaskier – as Geralt keeps reminding himself – looks nervous for a split second before he bows and starts up the band again. Eist just goes all gooey eyed. Pavetta looks even more miserable than before. Perhaps she’d thought if her mother hadn’t shown this whole façade would be over. The witcher, at the Princess’s side, leans in and whispers something. Pavetta’s back straightens slightly, but she turns from Yennefer coldly.</p><p>Yennefer meets Geralt’s eye, raises her glass and drinks from it. Her face is free from the scars of her profession, but she holds herself like the warrior she is. When Calanthe goes to the high table she says something that has Pavetta scowling and pulls Yennefer to one side as she goes to change.</p><p>When a fight about manticores breaks out, the expert who could end such an argument is not in the room to settle it.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Calanthe, Queen of Cintra, and Yennefer of Vengerberg, known regicide, parlay in the Queen’s dressing room. The maid has been dismissed and the silver dress Calanthe intends to wear lies upon the back of the chair.</p><p>“Did you find him?” Calanthe says. The screen is right there for her to change behind but instead Yennefer has a sudden view of toned flesh. Armour is discarded on the floor and Calanthe washes the blood off with a rag.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Did you kill him?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Why not? I wanted the job done, Witcher!” Calanthe turned, a snarl at her mouth, “That’s what I’m paying you for.”</p><p>“That isn’t your choice. It’s Pavetta’s,” Yennefer said, drawling, leaning against the wall, and ignoring the display of anger with a supressed snort of amusement.</p><p>Yennefer continues, “Doesn’t she deserve to know exactly who she’s been seeing? Does she even know about the law of surprise?”</p><p>“Does it matter?”</p><p>“It would be nice to know how much he’s lied to her. It’s incredibly suspect that he sought her out alone, especially considering her young age. If he’d gone to you first, requested to meet her, I’d be inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt but -”</p><p>“I want his head on a silver platter.”</p><p>Yennefer agreed.</p><p>“- she should ask him herself.”</p><p>“She’s just a girl! She doesn’t know what she wants!”</p><p>“I seem to remember a young Queen, the same age as your daughter, who won battles. Did she know what she wanted?” Yennefer raised a carefully plucked eyebrow.</p><p>Calanthe rolled her response, her anger, around in her mouth, and stepped into her dress rather than answering.</p><p>“Where is he, then?” she eventually ground out.</p><p>“I took the liberty of locking him in the gatehouse. Your guards were happy to let me use it.”</p><p>“I’ll be having words with them,” Calanthe muttered darkly under her breath; Yennefer’s sensitive ears picked it up anyway.</p><p>“It’ll keep him away for the rest of the night. Perhaps delaying the-”</p><p>“Pavetta’s betrothal to Crach an Craite will be announced by the end of the night. I invite you here, <em>Kingslayer</em>, because I needed you to kill a monster. I need not your ‘advice’ nor your preaching.”</p><p>“You need me here because Pavetta will never forgive you if you should kill the man she loves,” Yennefer countered.</p><p>“Perhaps,” Calanthe agreed with a sneer, “It matters not. Adolescent infatuations fade. Pavetta will marry who I choose, and it won’t be a nobody from nowhere who skulks in the shadows.”</p><p>Yennefer did not say anything.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Geralt sat and listened to each Prince or Lord set their suit before the Queen and the Princess, with the full disinterest in knowing that only Crach an Craite would succeed. His attention was divided by the bard, who had begun flirting with an older lady in a grey dress in between songs and Geralt worried he may need saving from an irate husband or brother, and the Witcher who sat at Calanthe’s right.</p><p>There was a large clock above the door to the ballroom and, upon the high table, 3 sets of eyes were glued to it. Waiting for something.</p><p>But what?</p><p>Yennefer had clearly been sent here to protect the proceedings from something.</p><p>As the night proceeded, Princess Pavetta became more distressed. Yennefer remained superficially impassive. Calanthe relaxed back into her throne, her verbal sparring with the long line of suitors became more cutting.</p><p>The clock struck.</p><p>Pavetta burst into tears as if on cue.</p><p>Calanthe smiled, a barely there smirk, before she leaned into talk to the Princess.</p><p>Yennefer looked forcibly blasé. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes were wary. She had one hand upon the sword at her hip. Her attention was focussed upon Pavetta.</p><p>Geralt felt a pricking to the back of his neck, the hairs on his arms rose. He glanced at Mousesack who looked suddenly very sober and serious. Chaos hung in the air, it built.</p><p>Suddenly Pavetta rose to her feet, her hair was streaming out behind her, her eyes seemed to glow.</p><p>“What did you do to him!” her voice was hysterically high, as she accused her mother. The rest of the room fell silent. Jaskier and his fellow musicians stopped playing. The background carousing stopped.</p><p>“Not here, darling,” the Queen said, with gritted teeth, “Sit. Down.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Geralt almost missed what happened next, it happened in a split second. Pavetta turned away from the high table. Calanthe’s hand went out and gripped her wrist. Pavetta turned and –</p><p>Geralt only just managed to bring up a protective bubble up around himself as the ballroom turned into a whirlwind. The high table bounced off the bubble as it was blasted backward from raised dais. As he righted himself, he could see the Witcher fighting to get closer to where Pavetta and Calanthe were floating 6 foot above the floor.</p><p>Calanthe’s face was frozen in a rictus, a shocked scream on her face. Pavetta’s face was tearstained, her face was also locked in a scream. Anger and grief radiated out from the pair upon the soundwaves.</p><p>Geralt, amidst the battering of wind against his skin and the splinters of wood, took stock of his party. Draig Bon-Dhu was pinned against the far wall with his friends. Crach an Craite was forefront of their group trying to stand. Eist too was trying to reach the pair, a horror in the set of his mouth and a fire in his eyes as he struggled forward to reach his love.</p><p>Geralt met Mousesack’s eye. The other druid had done much the same as Geralt, a protective bubble around him. They nodded at each other and, as one, began casting spells towards the dais, trying to unstable the angry Princess.</p><p>The Witcher, Yennefer, was bathed in a golden glow –Geralt believed they called it Quen – and was sending Aard after Aard toward the pair.</p><p>Calanthe didn’t look so good, any blood that had been gathered within her cheeks seemed to be draining away at an alarming rate. Her hair, once brunette, now turned white, strand by strand as she cowered under her daughter’s fury. Her hand, still gripped upon Pavetta’s arm, was thinning, losing colour, and becoming more bone like by the second. Soon there would be a skeleton.</p><p>It wasn’t working. Mousesack and Geralt were about 10 ft away, the telekinetic blast Pavetta was emitting setting every nerve in Geralt’s body on fire.</p><p>Yennefer was closer but her attempts to separate the mother and daughter were ineffectual. She’d moved on from Aard to Axii but the green tendrils of mind control were bouncing off like oil did water. Her Quen had broken after battering from shrapnel sent her flying into a pillar.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Yennefer could see this wasn’t working. Calanthe was fading by the second. Yennefer didn’t like the genocidal bitch but if it got out that Yennefer was in charge when Queen Calanthe died it would take more than one regrettably pretty songbird to rebuild that reputation. She’d been hired to do a job and she was going to damn well do it.</p><p>(This is why you don’t get involved, Yennefer, the small voice at the back of her brain whispered).</p><p>Pavetta was going to get everyone killed. She could see the two druids, Mousesack and Geralt sending magical blasts towards the dais. Jaskier was hunkered down by the wall shielding a noble woman under his arm.</p><p>She could see Eist struggling toward them, pure desperation on his face and in every one of his tortured movements. He was determined, Yennefer would give him that.</p><p>Pulling out Willow and Petri's Philter, from where they were stowed in minute bottles in her inside pocket, she downs them, wincing at their bitter taste and feeling them take effect. Now she should be able to get close enough to cast Aard of Axii with enough strength to knock Pavetta’s concentration.</p><p>She does so, battling through the winds. She casts Quen as a precaution, then Axii. Pavetta falters as Yennefer’s block invades her mind and causes her to shudder, her control wobbling and snapping. The wind drops, Pavetta and Calanthe fall to the floor.</p><p>Calanthe is still gripped in Pavetta’s hold. Her face grey and sunken, her eyes wet and wide with pain. Yennefer can feel Pavetta gearing up for round 2. Pain and denial and so much grief building up and dispersing like acrid smoke through the hall and paralysing every human in the room.</p><p>Calanthe is frozen at her daughter’s feet.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Yennefer whips her head around. One human is still moving. He crawls, scrambling over upturned tables and discarded food and cutlery. Tears run down Eist’s face as he slides onto his knees at Pavetta’s feet, next to Calanthe.</p><p>“Please,” he grips Calanthe’s other hand and begs Pavetta, “Please. Not like this.”</p><p>The raw emotion on his face breaks through the building frisson of panic.</p><p>Pavetta screams. Yennefer is blasted back, her potions useless against such a power. Eist thumps next to her, his back hitting the wall and sliding down it. He’s conscious. Yennefer can just see Calanthe trembling from where she was blasted, behind where the throne’s usually sit. Yennefer can hear Mousesack and Geralt groaning in pain and asking each other if they were okay.</p><p>Yennefer got to her feet, flakes of dust and bits of splintered wood falling off her.</p><p>Pavetta sits, sunk to the floor, crying in the midst of her own destruction, a circle clear from debris around her. It paints a pathetic picture.</p><p>Yennefer goes to her.</p><p>“Come on, he’s still alive. Get up, I need to talk to you.” Yennefer lifts the crying girl like a ragdoll and hefts her into a bridal carry.</p><p>“You,” she orders Mousesack, who’s staggering to his feet, “Make sure he’s-” she gestures over to Eist, “-alright.”</p><p>She carries Pavetta past Calanthe in the direction of Calanthe’s dressing room, it being the only room Yennefer knows the whereabouts of in this maze of a castle. Calanthe is still sunken on the floor but her face is blooming with blood again, her fingers have flesh once more, her hair mostly brown. She looks haunted. Her eyes track as Yennefer passes and, using the wall as support, manages to get to her feet.</p><p>Yennefer ignores her, it doesn’t matter to her whether or not Calanthe comes with her, her concern is the sobbing girl in her arms.</p><p>She hears the, polite, inquiries of the druid Geralt who, after seeing his friend directed on such a mission for Eist, has decided to see if his help is required here.</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t care if he follows either, maybe he could help. Calanthe doesn’t voice her objections either. She’s focussed on following Yennefer.</p><p>Vaguely Yennefer can hear the tell-tale sounds of a lute and scrabbling feet, Jaskier was also along for the ride.</p><p>Kicking open the door, she enters the dressing room and lays Pavetta down upon the chaise longue. The princess sits up and looks up at Yennefer in such a way for Yennefer to be in no doubt as to whose daughter she is.</p><p>Yennefer busies herself at the drinks cabinet and eventually thrusts a goblet of wine in her hand, “Drink that. It’ll settle your nerves.”</p><p>Pavetta sets the drink aside, without touching a drop. “Where is he?”</p><p>“He’s in the gatehouse. Who is he?” Yennefer asked, crossing her arms over her chest and meeting her gaze.</p><p>“I must-” Pavetta gets up to leave the room. Yennefer stands in front of the door.</p><p>“Please answer. Your mother wanted me to kill him without question. Who did he say he was?”</p><p>“He’s Lord Urcheon of Erlenwald, Duny. He’d been cursed from a young age. We are destined for each other; he claimed the law of surprise when he saved my father’s life.”</p><p>“I find it very difficult to believe that a man more than twice your age has any good reason for seeking you out in the dead of night. I was not a child surprise myself, but I know Witchers who were. It isn’t a cosmic romance, set in the stars, there <em>is</em> choice involved. Your Lord Urcheon made his choice when he stayed away rather than claim any paternal or mentor like role. The unexpected thing your father found upon his return was a daughter, correct, not a wife nor lover?”</p><p>“He never intended to meet me, he just watched me from afar!”</p><p>“And yet here he is.”</p><p>“Destiny intervened; our hearts collided! He’ll take me away from this place, I’ll be free!”</p><p>Yennefer tried, and failed, to keep the pity out of her expression.</p><p>“I love him.”</p><p>Calanthe entered the room. Ideally, she’d sit next to her daughter, but one glare had her standing clenched fisted beside Yennefer.</p><p>“Like it or not, Duny decided to stay away until the very moment your betrothal ball was announced, when your mother decided to let suitors ask for your hand. It’s not you he wants. I questioned him under axii-”</p><p>(“Mind control,” Jaskier whispers, needlessly, to Geralt, from where they were unsubtly eavesdropping from outside the door. Geralt was trying to pull him away).</p><p>“- it’s the elder blood he wants. His father was the last Imperator of Nilfgaard. There’s a prophecy which says the world will come to an end and all that will be left is those reborn of elder blood.”</p><p>“I thought my mother’s gift had skipped you as it skipped me,” Calanthe said, warily, taking in her daughter.</p><p>“So what! You said it yourself! Tonight, is an utter farce of male tradition which amounts to the bullshit of Cintra needing a King. Why can’t I choose who to marry! You hated my father! I’m of age!”</p><p>“You’re a child,” Calanthe said, her voice breaking, “You need to choose someone good for the kingdom. I didn’t have much say when I married your father, I’d hope to spare you the indignities of someone like that.”</p><p>Pavetta isn’t really listening, “You say Duny was just using me for the elder blood in my veins, that he cared not for <em>me!</em> That he only wanted me for selfish reasons. If that is true, if that is why you will not let me marry him, then I refuse to marry Crach an Craite for the same reasons. He is a good man, but I do not love him. The only reason I am to marry him is to ally Cintra and Skellige, upon your selfish ‘request’ <em>Mother</em>.”</p><p>“And what would you have me do (!)” Calanthe scoffs, “You have known Crach since you were knee high, he is the best here! None of those men <em>love </em>you. And neither did your precious Urcheon. You were but a means to an end.”</p><p>Pavetta still looks pale and blonde and small, but her face burns with a white heat of hatred and she spits, “I’d ask you to stop being such a coward! You have a man that loves you. Why should I marry his nephew when you and Eist could produce the same end! A King for Cintra!”</p><p>Calanthe looks like Pavetta has slapped her. She’d probably react better to the physical blow.</p><p>Eist coughs. Crach is standing next to him, looking sheepish. Yennefer had heard them come in but dismissed them as irrelevant at that moment.</p><p>Behind her, Yennefer can hear Jaskier searching his pockets for a quill frantically.</p><p>“It seems we may need a compromise,” Geralt says awkwardly, from his place at the door.</p><p>“Who are you?” Calanthe asks, tiredly.</p><p>“This is Geralt Haute-Bellegarde,” Eist answers, clapping Geralt on the shoulder with more force than was probably necessary.</p><p>“Oh yes. One of the druids.” Calanthe manages an eyeroll.</p><p>“It seems to me, ma’am that you have justified concerns about Duny. It also seems that Pavetta doesn’t seem inclined to marry anyone, just now.”</p><p>Pavetta opened her mouth to protest.</p><p>“If you only want to marry Duny to escape from under your mother’s thumb, maybe other conversations need to be had,” Yennefer says, cutting off Pavetta’s protests, “Just think about it, please.”</p><p>Yennefer had once been that teenage girl, convinced that she knew the best. Calanthe obviously wasn’t the best mother but marrying a much older man who met her in the middle of the night seemed to be an extremely drastic 0-100.</p><p>“Why don’t we wait a few years,” Calanthe says, and Yennefer can see her trying to sound gentle, “I didn’t marry your father till I was 18. Then, if your Duny is willing to prove he is worthy, can submit his suit through the appropriate channels. If he truly loves you, he’ll wait.” It’s clear Calanthe doesn’t think Duny will, especially when Duny realises Pavetta comes with a mother who won’t tolerate ill treatment of her daughter. “In the meantime-” she pauses to look up at Eist, “Perhaps I have been foolish.”</p><p>Eist’s face lit up, covered in tears and grime as it is, pure joy colouring his face.</p><p>The moment is ruined by Jaskier sniffing loudly, “This might be the subject of my greatest ballad yet. Second greatest!” Geralt passes him a handkerchief.</p><p> </p><p>A wedding is scheduled for Calanthe and Eist. Until further notice, Duny will remain confined to a cell Cintra’s dungeons. It is clear it’s only Pavetta’s feelings on the matter that are stopping Calanthe from killing him, especially as it becomes clear that Pavetta is pregnant. Mousesack agrees to stay in the Cintran court with his liege and to help Pavetta with her gift. Hopefully with a new stepfather and a whole host of Skelligan cousins, Pavetta will feel supported enough not to rely on Duny.</p><p>Geralt leaves with Yennefer and Jaskier.</p><p>“Can we go to Skellige next, Yennefer? Geralt was telling me about sirens, they sound utterly fascinating!”</p><p>“They’re pains in the neck. They attack sailors and eat my goats.”</p><p>“One of Yennefer’s brother’s keeps goats-”</p><p>“One goat, Jaskier. He uses her as wyvern bait.”</p><p>“I’m sure that’s not true, Eskel wouldn’t!” </p><p>Eskel would, Yennefer thought but she said, “Why do you want to go to Skellige? You get seasick on the river ferry.”</p><p>“I do not!” Jaskier lied, “Geralt said he’d show me around the islands. He has a cottage, and as a druid has year round access to the island’s hot springs.”</p><p>Geralt had gone rather red and bashful. It clashed with his hair. Yennefer sympathised, Jaskier’s attention was rather like being stared at by a young animal, flattering but rather bewildering.Through the early years of their acquaintance, Yennefer’s attempts at ‘shoo-ing’ the bard away had been met with varying degrees of success. Who <em>chose</em> to follow a witcher around for what amounted to almost a decade now?</p><p>“Besides I have to work out some kinks in my new ballad and Skellige is the perfect place to get information on Eist. I’ll be damned if Draig Bon-Dhu gets his ballad out first.”</p><p>“Yes, I fear we may have outstayed our welcome in Cintra,” Yennefer sighed. Whilst Calanthe had paid Yennefer for her services rendered, even on the day of her engagement couldn’t mellow the fact that Duny was still alive at the end of the night. If she never saw Cintra again, she’d die happy.</p><p>“Mousesack is going to work on breaking his curse,” Geralt said, as if reading her mind. She nodded.</p><p>“What do you mean outstayed our welcome? I don’t know about you, but I’ve been invited to play at the new arrival’s name day,” Jaskier plucked at his lute, a little tune that may be the beginnings of a lullaby.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What do you mean, what? Around, Belletyn, Pavetta thought.”</p><p>Yennefer resisted from facepalming. Just. She felt a stress headache forming in each temple. It could just be her potions wearing off. It could be the full knowledge that in about 7 months’ time she’d be accompanying Jaskier into the unwelcoming arms of the Cintran court to listen to him sing lullabies she’d have heard about 3 million times as he practiced them.</p><p>“Fine, but there had better be alcohol in your little hut, druid.”</p><p>Jaskier clapped in glee, punctuating it with a celebratory melody.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I brew my own beer,” and he smiled at her companionably.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>(“What do you mean we have to sail there? Can’t you portal us?”</p><p>“I’m a druid, not a mage. I can’t do portals.”</p><p>“Still got a stomach of iron, Julek?”)</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>6 years and 7 months later. Ish.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Yennefer crouched, as quiet and silently as possible, behind the curtain. There was the sound of hurried footsteps. A whispered and urgent conversation. She held her breath…</p><p>“FOUND YOU! Mama, I found her!” The birthday girl, the girl of the hour, resplendent in a puffy pink dress that made her look like a pastry, pulled aside the curtain. She still had birthday cake adorned to the corners of her mouth.</p><p>Ciri smiled up at Yennefer who picked her up and gently wiped away the stray crumbs and jam. Pavetta smiled fondly. She looked so much happier than the girl Yennefer had first met all those years ago. She had found her own place in the court and now acted as her mother’s advisor. From what Mousesack told Geralt, some truly heinous acts had been forestalled by Pavetta’s persuasion. Calanthe had realised how close she had come to having her daughter stolen away.</p><p>“Who’s left to find?”</p><p>“I found Grandfather. And Jaskier, he was easy. Geralt’s talking to Uncle Mousesack.”</p><p>“Just mother to find,” Pavetta confirmed. If anyone knew that Calanthe played hide and seek with her granddaughter, her reputation would be toast.</p><p>“Have I grown much since my last birthday?” Ciri asked Yennefer as they made their way down the corridor, “Am I old enough for you and Geralt to teach me, yet?” She swung on Pavetta and Yennefer’s hands a little as they walked.</p><p>Yennefer looked over the young girl’s head at Pavetta, who smiled worriedly. Whilst Duny had been exiled from Cintra years ago, there was still the worry that he’d come for Ciri. That he’d try and use her in his wicked schemes for power.</p><p>Was it wrong of Yennefer to wish for Ciri to grow up safely, with her mother and grandparents? Content in a world where she didn’t have to suffer for her happiness? Selfishly, Yennefer hoped Ciri could have childhood she herself had never had.</p><p>“Almost, ugly one, almost.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos are appreciated, thank you!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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